


Rudolf the Red Knows Rain, Dear.

by wherethefigslie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherethefigslie/pseuds/wherethefigslie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Watson has a Christmas tradition that Sherlock does not take to very well. Not very well at all, in fact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rudolf the Red Knows Rain, Dear.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from an absolutely terrible joke a teacher of mine once told. Reindeer jumper fic was requested, and this is what I delivered.

"I'm burning it."

John simply shakes his head, holding the jumper out in front of him to admire it. "You're not. You've used up your jumper burning allowance for the year, after the kitchen incident."

"The flame needed to be put out somehow."

"I have no doubt you had good reason to use my jumper to put out the fire. The point still stands. No burning this one."

"It's hideous."

"I think it's sweet. And anyway, Harry put a lot of thought into it and it's the thought that counts, isn't it?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes so hard it hurts, flouncing huffily onto the sofa, one arm draped dramatically across his forehead as he settles against the arm of the sofa. "I'd hate to know how much red wine was involved in this particular thought process."

"How did you -- " comes John's voice from within the wooly confines of the jumper he's attempting to pull over his head. A moment of struggle, and John sorts it out, smoothing his hands over the reindeer prancing across the front of his brand new jumper. Sherlock shoots him an icy glare, but John remains determinedly cheerful. "You've got one as well. Here."

Sherlock sits up to catch it on instinct and flings it away from him like the very touch if it burns him. "How kind of her," he drawls, his voice oozing sarcasm. He flops forward, head between his knees, looking like he might be ill.

If John notices Sherlock's agony, he doesn't let on. "Can't burn yours either. In fact, you should wear it when she comes over for dinner."

"Oh god," Sherlock groans, covering his head with his arms as though John's words are a physical blow from which he must protect himself. From his hunched over position, he glares at the jumper on the floor, like the smiling snowman might leap off the front of it and impale Sherlock with his sequin encrusted carrot nose.

John simply laughs and collects the jumper, folding it neatly and pressing a kiss to the back of Sherlock's hand. "You can destroy it however you like after she leaves."

Sherlock smiles a little, placated. "Bless you, John."

"Don't say I never do anything nice for you. Happy Christmas. I'll go put on the tea, shall I?"

"Mm."

Taking that as a yes, John starts to move towards the kitchen, only to have his hand snatched up by Sherlock. He looks back at his flatmate, eyebrows raised in question. Sherlock merely smiles and presses a soft kiss to the inside of John's wrist.

"Happy Christmas."

John smiles warmly and leans down to give Sherlock a proper kiss. "Happy Christmas, you mad thing."

As John puts the kettle on, Sherlock settles back against the couch once more, fingers steepled against his lips, plotting the reindeer jumper's demise in as many nasty ways as possible. He gets up to twenty-seven when John calls him in for tea, and forgets them all by the time John pulls him close to watch the snow falling against the kitchen window.


End file.
